Held For Ransom
by HeroineGauddess
Summary: Emily and Victoria had been lost but now are home again. Though just because they had been found, just because their ransom had ended doesn't mean their torment is over. Eventually Vemily/Victem.
1. Chapter 1

She reluctantly opened her eyes, the sun's rays causing them to squint against the bright illumination, and she groaned, feeling them split open the thin coating of dried salt she had shed. The rest of her body slowly came alive, regaining function and finding that the hard concrete underneath her had chilled her entire front and the left side of her face. Trying out each joint, she realized she barely had enough energy to lift her head up off the floor. Her muscles ached in protest and so there she stayed, her limbs falling limp once again.

When her vision focused to the light of day that filtered through the rotten screen of the sole hopper window, she reacquainted herself with her surroundings, secretly longing that this was all just a bad dream. That she would somehow be in her childhood home, having fallen unconscious from a drunken stupor rather than a violent sexual assault. It would've certainly explained the pounding in her skull and the dizzy spell that threatened to overtake her.

However, with her gaze level on the ground, she silently cursed herself for having given an inch into false hope, for she was still in the basement. Locked in from the outside. She rolled her eyes closed for a long moment, attempting to resist the prickling sensation behind their lids. She failed as a tear leaked from her caruncle and rolled over the ridge of her nose, down her cheek, leaving a moist trail that seemed to crystallize against the cold, finally dissolving in her hair.

It was a fairly spacious room, about half the extent of the first story of her beachfront house if she could guess. Crumbling red brick kept the earth at bay. Single bulb light fixtures hung bottom up between wooden rafters along the ceiling. A full-size mattress and box spring were propped atop a shaky iron bed frame set lengthwise against one wall, wrapped in tattered and moth-eaten sheets. A wardrobe stood against the opposite wall, its cabinets spread open revealing varies dusty sundresses on wire hangers, and tucked beneath an open-under staircase leading to a door that was kept bolted shut. Not that anything good came through it.

Her waist cut between the archway of the bathroom, the hinges stripped of its door. The mirror above the sink reflected the early morning shine which contained paint smudges around its frame. She would never have known the adjoining room had been painted at all otherwise. The faucet knew of but one temperature—scolding hot, while the walk-in shower couldn't build any more heat than lukewarm. Never mind that the shower door was covered in grime and soap-scum to the point of no return.

If she didn't know any better, she would've thought to be in her old foster home. The one she involuntarily took the blame for burning on Eli's behalf. Perhaps her answer to escaping was a match, after all. If only she could get her hands on at least one.

Maybe she didn't need to.

Sucking in a deep breath, she positioned her hands on either side of herself and pushed off the cement, gradually shifting her weight onto her knees, careful of her skin as it peeled and snapped back. Forcing herself to sit up, she blew out the air in one long exhale as if she were breathing out smoke, the wooziness returning the higher her head ascended and distorting the peripheral of her vision.

Fingers clamped the lip of the sink, quiveringly clutching at any form of stability to collect upon. She remained as still as possible until she could gather her bearings, continuing to breath deeply and slowly, blinking rapidly to wash away the sleep.

How had she gotten here? How had she let things escalate this far?

No; she would have all the time in the world to reflect and wallow in regret when she got out of here.

If she got out of here.

She needed to concentrate—to stay focused on the main proposition at hand. Revert back to the lessons she'd been taught long ago under Takeda's rule. But he wasn't here to bail her out, she was on her own.

Footsteps played across the hardwood above at a quickened pace and her head jerked to the back of her neck, staring up at the ceiling while she felt the vibrations move over her before her gaze landed on the stairs. Her breathing lowered to a near whisper until she held it altogether. Her heart throbbed wildly in her chest, beating against her eardrums. She could feel her knuckles turning white where her grip tightened on porcelain.

Once their tread halted just on the other side of the basement door, her eyes slid closed again. He was coming for her now, no doubt. He had already taken Victoria, ripping her from Emily's hold like a toy from a child, and there was no telling what became of the older woman during the lost hours of the night. That thought sent a sense of dread up her spine and she couldn't bare it.

If anyone told her beforehand that she would have grown considerably close to Victoria Grayson, of all people, she never would've believed it. Hell, she probably would've refuted it even. Yet, they had, if the past torments they endured together was anything to go by. And all past indiscretions aside, Emily would be damned if she left her behind.

Suddenly multiple bolts unlatched, the sound of chains clattered against wood and it seemed the entire cellar's foundation settled when the basement's door swung open with a loud squawk.

This was it, Emily thought. Now or never.

Adrenaline began to pump in her veins, hyping herself for what was to come—for what was sure to be the fight of her life.

She gritted her teeth and yanked herself onto her feet, vaguely noting the wobble of her legs.

What she hadn't anticipated was the voice that came down the stairwell.

"Amanda?"

Her face melted instantly from the scowl she didn't realize her features had contorted and released a timorous sigh, her rigid posture slumping forward slightly. Her throat too dry and hoarse to articulate anything remotely comprehensible, she swallowed in an desperate attempt to lather her vocal cords and tried to speak again. This time, louder and rushed.

"Here!" Emily called, which came out more of a croak than anything else. "I'm down here, I'm here."

This time, she didn't prohibit herself from breaking down.


	2. Chapter 2

She can't see. They overflow with tears she never shed; or else she would've spotted the hand initiating the pressure that tilts her back until her spine falls against an arm cutting across it, as well as the other that hooks under her legs. Fingers tenderly splay over her shoulder blade and all at once she's lifted into the air.

She can't think; at least not about anything but the pain. Apologies, excuses. Confessions. Things she never said rushing forth in a desperate attempt to somehow justify what had been done to her—to them both.

She can't breath. Her lungs convulse behind her ribcage, struggling to vacuum enough oxygen before they're forced to compress again due to her uncontrollable sobs.

She can't speak, for nothing spews out but sniveling wails and spittle mixed with mucus.

What she can is feel herself breaking, similar to a horse from its wild-like state. The strings that held her together coming untethered and tangled.

Something had managed to imprint itself inside of her against her better judgment and triggers obedience. She suddenly requires permission to leave, however small, hidden deep within. She doesn't recall it having been there before and it's discerning. She never needed authorization, especially in question to what she wanted. If she wished for an occurrence to happen, it did. By her own hand, by her own violation, and hers alone. But now, now there was this trickle of...docility. Dire of the consequences. It lingers in her forethought as she's being carried up the stairs.

It outrages her, igniting a fire of a different color entirely. That same smoldering fury she had used to fuel her revenge, only hotter. Much hotter. Blistering. Scalding. So much so that as soon as she's passed through the basement door, Emily's on her feet screaming almost to the point of ultrasonic. A shrill that has Nolan scurrying against the far wall, covering his ears, and appearing every bit the terror-stricken child with red-rimmed eyes.

He doesn't know what to do but separate himself from her in that instant, putting as much space between them as he can. Though it isn't much considering what hell hes been through to find her and now that he has, he isn't about to let her out of his sight.

They're in the kitchen, but the casement windows are bare and so are the countertops. No sign of inhibitors at all. Or hostages. Then again, that's exactly why it took so long. This abductor was good, but not perfect. Nolan can only imagine what the blonde endured, and serenely so as he stands idly by and watches one of the strongest women hes ever known crumble before his very eyes.

It's something else to witness a soul shatter, but being unable to do anything about it...it's utter torture. It's excruciating and he feels it. Her agony, her misery crashes down on him brick by brick of the great wall that is Emily Thorne. Leaving nothing in it's wake but little Amanda Clarke amidst the dust and rubble.

She's thrashing about like a demon possessed, in some sort of nightmarish tantrum, hitting, kicking, channeling all she can inflict upon this man—this deceased man. Her efforts are all for naught because bullets have already been inserted and what horrors the man might've had planned drains out like the rest of him. But no one dares to stop her. Not even Aiden whose just run into the room only to halt mid-stride and cast an empathetic look.

They suppose it was the mere glimpse of her kidnapper, there, stationary on the floor that set her off. A side of her that only they had ever seen and yet never in such high velocity.

It's clear that what they've labeled the man isn't all he is guilty of.

When she finally tires, it isn't from exhaustion. Adrenaline continues to send tremors throughout her body, causing her muscles to twitch involuntarily. Her eyes are bloodshot and darkened with the lust of vengeance.

This won't be enough, they know. But they also know it will have to be, because something ripples across her features and Emily slowly realizes that not everyone is there.

Her gaze sweeps across the kitchen as if seeing it for the first time, then she fixes each of them with an expectant glance and the two men left standing share another.

"_Are we forgetting something?"_ Nolan silently communicates as he too settles down.

Aiden's shoulders sag and seemingly tucks his tail between his legs, avoiding eye contact with either of them.

"Is she...?" Emily asks, her voice fading before she's finished. She isn't sure how much more she can bear. Simply having to say it aloud is strenuous.

The Englishman clenches his jaw a moment before all he can muster is averting his gaze toward the ceiling.

Nolan follows Aiden's line of sight and suddenly understands. The blonde quickly catches on and is already darting past him before Aiden sidesteps in front of her. She flinches away, head jerking to the back of her neck.

"You might not like what you find, Emily." he warns, surrendering his hands from touching her.

Emily's brows scrunch together and her chin quivers ever so slightly. "Move."

It isn't a request and both men know it. But the younger of the two is nothing if not persistent.

"Let **me**," suggests Aiden, though he isn't acting fast enough, therefore roughly shoved against the wall. It's messy and lacks her usual stamina, which worries him.

Built during the depression, the building creaks and moans under their weight as Emily storms to the front of the house and Nolan chases after her. He finds it odd that the blonde doesn't know where she's going. She navigates from room to room as if having never walked through it. But she's frantic and in no time they reach the grand staircase.

She's skipping steps and tripping over her own feet. He stays close behind and offers outstretched limbs to be of help, in case she should need it. But they go ignored and she fumbles on, determined to make the climb if it kills her.

He supposes she's survived worse.

The bottom floor is similar to the second. Dozens of suites line the long hallway. There's no furniture either, and nothing to prepare them for what they do find.

_[Flashback]_

_The silence is enough to tell her all she needs to know. Victoria is scared, and that scares Emily._

_She can't help the frown that tugs at the corners of her lips when her fingers near the end of the long ebony locks shes braided and leans forward to pear over the older woman's shoulder._

_Victoria stares off into the distance at the hopper window from where they sit cross-legged on the bed. The moon fills the bathroom with an apparitional glow, shining through the archway like an opening to a cave the remainder of the basement represents. Her arms lay limb in her lap, but her hands are busy playing with the stuffed pillowcase draped over her folded knees._

"_Out of the two of us...I'm the weakest link."_

"_Victoria—" Emily sighs, closing her eyes a moment before the mattress bounces her attention back to Victoria as she twists around. Brown connect with pleading ones and what ever the blonde intended to assure the older woman of slips her mind._

"_If an escape presents itself, I want you to take it. Even if it means I stay behind."_

_Emily is offended and it shows. "No."_

_She shakes her head, just so there isn't any misunderstanding. But knowing Victoria and how adamant she can be, it bears repeating. "No," she says, pointing a deliberate finger skyward. "We're going to beat this, we're going to beat __**him**__. Do you hear me?"_

_Emily cranes her neck in order to look up into the older woman's face. "Neither of us is dying."_

"_Just promise me."_

"_Promise __**what**__?"_

"_That you'll do as I ask."_

_The blonde has to turn away because she can't think like that. She has to believe that they will win, that they will see their loved ones again. She has to._

"_You're being ridiculous, we're not—"_

"_Dammit Emily," Victoria grabs for her hands and collects them in her own, anchoring the younger woman from rising from the bed completely. "Promise me."_

"_I__** promise**__," she begins, pausing for effect__. "That I'm not going to let anything happen."_

_It's Victoria's turn to look away, but she doesn't let go of her and Emily gives a comforting squeeze._

"_Look at me." The older woman now seems incapable. Though she doesn't speak, the blonde knows to continue. "I'm not leaving without you."_

_Victoria's features slowly contort to an expression that Emily can't quite explain. It's a mixture of fear and joy rolled into one. She reluctantly steals a glimpse at the younger woman from her peripheral._

"_Only if you promise __**me**__ something."_

"_Now who's being ridiculous." This time Victoria drops the younger woman's hands in a heap and readjusts to her former position facing the bathroom._

_Shortly thereafter she's on her back, looking up at the blonde who's leant over her. Emily wants to be taken seriously and it seems the only way she can gain purchase of this from the older woman is to physically make her listen. Victoria isn't pleased as her eyes narrow, but she isn't fighting it either._

"_I want you to promise that you won't leave without me too."_

_There they stay—Victoria lying belly up on the bed while Emily holds herself inches away, elevated on her arms posted on both sides of the older woman's head—challenging each other in a battle of wills for what feels like minutes._

"_I need to hear you say it, Victoria." asserts Emily and with it sounding a bit grave._

_The older woman examines her carefully, as if waiting for the catch, and all too aware of their proximity. The blonde senses it too but decides not to acknowledge it. Victoria then rolls her eyes and gulps, releasing a deep breath._

_Breath Emily didn't release she was holding._

"_I promise."_

_[End of flashback]_

"Ems?" Nolan fishes timidly, frozen in place behind her and staring at the pooling body that lays unmoving before them, long dark hair fanned about her head and concealing her face.

Movement addresses his attention and he tears his eyes to Emily lowering herself onto the floor and gingerly crawling to the older woman.

It takes echoing whimpers for Nolan to realize the blonde is crying again. He has to hold onto the banister to keep himself up right as a hand tapes over his mouth.

If that son-of-a-bitch wasn't rotting in hell, Nolan would drag him down and kill the man himself.

"No," Emily whispers, so soft that the man standing just feet away can barely hear her.

She hitches out deep breaths then sucks it back through her nose as she bends over Victoria, brushing hair out of the way and tucking it behind an ear. Other than that, she doesn't know what to do with her hands. They graze over the older woman's entire body as if just by the passing of her palms, Victoria will heal.

_It isn't supposed to be like this_, she tells herself, _it isn't supposed to end like this_.

Emily rears back on her heels and tries to muffle the howls that are coming now. Her eyes burn and her nose runs, and she wipes fervently at them to clear the moisture away.

"No," she drawls out a little louder. "You promised."

She finds herself hovering over Victoria again and starts to gather the older woman in her arms, nevermind the blood that seeps from an open wound on Victoria's cheek; like the rat-bastard took a blade and ripped a seam running from the far left corner of her mouth up her jawline.

Nolan's hands come into view and she hisses at him. "Don't you touch her!"

He immediately pulls back as if he's been burned. It's all too much and he calls for Aiden.

Nolan hears the younger man's booted footfalls approaching at a hurried pace, but he can't turn away from the scene. He crouches down to perch on the edge of the landing and waits.

Emily rocks back and forth, cuddling Victoria to her chest as one would a child. She holds on tight and doesn't let go. She can detect the delicate rise and fall of the older woman's breasts meeting her own and presses a kiss to Victoria's temple.

"She's alive." she blurts, unconcerned if it falls on deaf ears or not.

She doesn't hear the sirens. She doesn't notice the flashing red and blue lights outside, nor the twin expressions of comprehension that break on the men's faces.


	3. Chapter 3

She looks so fragile in that bed, Emily thinks, dressed in nothing but a hospital gown with wires connecting to her like probes running from machines that seem to belong someplace else entirely.

A tube trails from her mouth indicating life support. A bandage is taped to one side of her face symbolizing the stitches. A tag circles her wrist labeling the patient's name.

Victoria is alive, technically.

They think that's enough to try and separate Emily from her, to persuade the blonde to go home and recuperate. They attempt their very best to assure her that if anything changed the state in which the older woman resided in, she would be notified.

But it isn't enough. Emily needs to be here, she wants to be the first thing Victoria sees when the brunette wakes up.

Not if, but when.

Its been weeks since they were rescued from that 'house of horrors'. Quoted from every news station across the nation, every channel busy updating their story. Nineteen days to be exact since they were rushed to the nearest hospital where Emily was thoroughly scrubbed and swabbed, poked and prodded. Where she'd been examined and tested, analyzed and interrogated.

Law enforcements investigate the narrative to fill in the gaps of their eight week ordeal. Reporters now curious, society now concerned.

Just because they had been found, just because their ransom had ended, doesn't mean their torment is over. It doesn't mean Emily is going to stop struggling nor does it mean life for the blonde is just going to begin again. And it absolutely does not mean just because Victoria isn't able to sit up and defend herself that she's going to sit idly by either.

No; she will fight for the both of them, and she isn't leaving the room until the older woman tells her to do so.

What if Victoria opens her eyes for two seconds and she isn't here? The blonde supposes it's the only thing she has left, the only thing to look forward to.

She barely sleeps, not that she would've been any more comfortable in her own bed. Though her spine curses what her mind can't think of, her face twisting to the ache. For as much as they charge, one would presume they could afford more adequate seating.

She barely eats, not that any food would appeal to her, anywhere.

Even friends and relatives, estranged and familiar alike, are now attentive. Still, she barely acknowledges anyone who enters.

Nolan wants to comfort Emily, but she won't be consoled.

"_Ems, we're worried about you. What do you want me to tell them? I don't know what to do, please tell me what to do."_

Aiden wants to soothe her, but she won't be touched.

"_Emily...don't push me away."_

Medical staff want her to abide by their rules, but she won't be moved.

"_Visiting hours are over, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave, miss—she'll still be here in the morning."_

Everyone is speaking as if it isn't expected of Victoria to survive. Given how far shes fallen and knowing that even a woman as strong as the matriarch of the Grayson dynasty has a breaking point, so naturally they predict this to be it.

What else could she possibly endure? Surely she can only take so much, cheat death so many times before it eventually sticks. Right?

Emily knows Victoria is going to prove them all wrong. She knows it.

The blonde bends forward and brushes at unmoved hair above the older woman's forehead, never releasing her hold on the hand in her own. In fact, when she leans back again, Emily intertwines their fingers together and a pang of doubt starts the prickle at the backs of her eyes.

She so desperately wants the brunette to squeeze in return. Instead, Victoria's fingers willingly spread but do not fold. Not completely.

If their kidnapping had taught her anything, it was patience.

So she doesn't dwell on it, because she knows she'll wait as long as it takes until they do.

The single-sized mattress sits near the window, the curtains pulled together to disallow any helicopters wanting to hover above from shining their spotlights, but a lamp in the far corner keeps most of the darkness away.

It's quiet apart from the monotone hum of the machinery, keeping track of the patient's vital signs.

Emily had at least hoped color would restore to the brunette's skin, but it hadn't.

It's difficult to compare Victoria as she presently appears to the huge figure who had dominated every room and every conversation. A woman of voracity and embedded determination, wrapped in fashion's finest only befitting for the Queen of the Hamptons.

The woman she sees now is...pathetically hard to look at.

_[Flashback]_

_A lab coat pokes her head through the door and casts her gaze around the room full of people before it lands on Mr Grayson._

"_Lets talk outside," she suggests._

_Conrad doesn't have to see his children's faces to know they actively object, so without losing eye contact with the doctor, he vaguely gestures at them._

"_No, it's alright." he verifies._

_The woman nods curtly and fully steps into the room, the door slipping from her grasp to click shut behind her._

"_How is she?" Charlotte is the first to inquire, her midsection in full bloom of the second trimester._

"_The news is not good," states the doctor, shifting the clipboard in her arms. "Your mother's had a stroke."_

_Charlotte turns inward to the warmth of Daniel's chest and sobs as he envelopes the girl in his embrace. Nolan lays a hand on Emily's shoulder from where he stands by her side, but she's too dumbfounded by what she's just heard to care._

"_That's impossible," Conrad says after a moment, once the woman's words have sunk in. "She's the healthiest person I know, she's—"_

"_It was a heart arrhythmia that kept the oxygen from the brain long enough to cause a coma." the doctor explains. "There's no way to see this coming."_

_There's a break of silence before Daniel lifts his head from atop his sister's and speaks. "There must be something we can do."_

"_Unfortunately all we can do now is...is wait."_

"_Wait for what?" demands Conrad, pushing the flaps of his suit jacket with his hands to perch over the waistband of his pants and adopting a stance of defense._

"_Well, for her brain to heal on its own."_

_[End of flashback]_

A pair of nurses come in and Emily automatically makes her way to the window, using a nail to pick at the cotton drapes and peek out, giving both people space to move about and check on their assigned patient's status. The blonde isn't sure what they check, exactly. It never lasts any longer than a few minutes and then she's left alone with Victoria again.

_[Flashback]_

_The doctor inspects Victoria's pupil response with a penlight before tucking it in a pocket and giving her attention to Daniel who's now seated in Emily's chair._

"_There's been no change in the time that your mother has been here, now that's," the woman sighs. "That's not a good sign."_

_Daniel chances a glance at his fiance near the fenestella only to find her turned away, but he knows she's listening, despite her current body language alleging otherwise._

"_What's going to happen to her?" he dares to ask._

"_We need to face the reality of Victoria's condition." she says after a bit of hesitance. "Now she's a healthy woman, more so than most her age. Her heart is strong. She could live like this for a long, long time." The doctor pauses briefly to clear her throat and swallow. She detects the young man's discomfort and quickly adds: "All we can do for her now is to make her comfortable."_

_Emily overhears Daniel shift in his seat, prolonging his next question._

"_Like keep her here in the hospital?"_

"_No-no, the hospital won't keep her, we need to find a nursing home."_

"_No."_

_It takes a moment for any of them to register the outburst, even before Emily herself realizes. It's the first time she's opened her mouth to anyone._

"_No," she repeats, her voice slightly gruff from disuse, craning her neck to face the others and displaying an expression of pure offense. "Absolutely not."_

_Vexation flutters across the other woman's face momentarily, but it's fleeting as she catches herself and a look of understanding soon replaces it. "There is no alternative."_

_Daniel instantly stands, earning two sets of feminine eyes and quietly rides the same train of thought as the blonde on the opposite side of the room._

"_We'll take her home..." he conceives aloud, switching his gaze back to the doctor only for his confidence to fade at the shaking of her head._

"_She needs professional, medical care. She needs monitoring. Therapy—"_

"_I'll do whatever I have to do," Emily declares, taking one firm step forwards for nothing more than to drive her point. "No one's going to stick her in another hole."_

_[End of flashback]_


End file.
